The Irish standard., 1887-09-24

for no other purpose but to save you.
These words reminded her of what
she really was, and the poor girl turned
deadly pale. Thought she was faint.
ing, and fastened to prevent her from
falling.
Don't touch me- she cried, holding
out her arms to keep me Off. oh! do not
touch thing like me-
There was something appalling in the
change that had come over her. She
appeared.to have withered in an instant.
I actually saw the wrinkles creeping
over her face and forehead. She sank
into a chair which had placed near
her. After considering moment, I
decided upon the course I should pur-
sue.
'Rose,' said I, here is my address.
| You know now you have a friend. And
may God give you strength to turn
back before it is too late.' I laid my
card en- the table near her, and with
drew.
1T was moonlight night, and
spent an hour or two looking out on
the waters of the great lake. Thought
Of Ireland, and OF the sufferngs Of her
children; and in my desolation
thanked God that there was still some
thing left ule,-that my heart could vet
thrill with mingled love and pride and
grief for that dear old land. Then I
thought of the peaceful valley and my
own home. That same moon looked
mildly down upon them! I flung my
self down by the shore ct the great lake,
far, far away, and then for the first
time since my great sorrow fell upon
me. I burst into tears. Stree that
moment I have been an altered man.
Life is no longer q burden to me. There
is, to be sure, q shadow upon my path;
but it is not the black one that rested
on it so long. I dislike crowds, and
hence have exchanged the busy city
for The lonesome prairie, But since
Connor Shea's arrival begin to think
that could enjoy the society Of my Old
friends; and I am already longing to
see my hermitage lighted mp by poor
Sally Cavanagh's bright looks. Connor
and are in deep plans tor the future.
But before / come to the end of my
paper, lot me tell you the result Of my
interview with Rose Mulvany. cot
note from her, which shall copy heye:--
Never ask to me again. l not worthy.
could not bear it, But send some one else to
ralze me away from this place. May God forever
bless you. Something tells me that ar saved.
I FASTENED to good Irish priest, and
told him the whole story. The results
that poor Rose Mulyany has been for
the last twelve months an inmate Of al
industrial institution under the super
intendenco Of the Sisters Of Charity. /
an slow to believe in complete rcfor-
nation in cases CT this kind; but my
reverend friend assures me thatit would
be harder now TO tempt Rose Mulvany
from the path Of virtue than il she lad
never left it. I wonder-but shall not
trouble You with my speculatjons, al
least not now. How we'll remember
the night I gave you that huGied,y-
written chapter Of my history! T. e1-
pected to hear Of your marriage from
Conner. My dear friend, what
ever sorrow you may have to endure, be
assured that the bitterest drop has not
been poured into the cup so long as
there is 10 stain upon the faii fame OF
the woman you loved
& believe him. exclaimed Brian, and
he started up as If the thought stung
hun. 'Eyen now that the struggle is
over and all impossible gulf between
US, even now that thought would he the
bitteresC drop in the cup. How this
poor fellow has suffered! And my
poor friend Connor Shea! What a |
pang those few words about
HIM would strike to the heart of his
brave wife. Good God exclaimed
Brian Purcell, as he put out one OF the
candles, what selfish beings are! How
much we think Of our own griefs, and
how little OF the griefs of others
The clock at the head OF the stairs
struck twelve, and Brian Purcell re-
tired to rest.